Clato - Sweeter Than Fiction
by gmwandplus
Summary: District 2 - block out your feelings, it's the Hunger Games, and if you fall no one catches you. Cato and Clove had that drilled in their skulls by their trainer, Taxus. They tried so hard to be ruthless, cruel, vicious, and all that. They couldn't do it. "She plays with knives and he plays with swords. Perfect, right?" Oh, the irony of it.
1. prologue

"Why him, Taxus?" I hiss to my trainer, who shrugs.

"You and him could help each other. You aren't so good with swords, and he needs some help in knives..."

"What, you want me to knife him?"

"Clove, come on..."

"Wasn't there _anyone other_ than Cato Gunn for me to train with, and possibly be my district partner in the Games?" I practically screech, hurling the knife on one of the dummies. It hits right between the eyes.

"Clove, I know," Taxus says, running a hand through his thick, red hair. "But that's what the Committee Board of the training center wants." I open my mouth to retort, but Taxus adds, "Look, you and Cato are on the list of favors for entering the 74th Games. Come on. Do your best."

Well that changes things.

Here in District 2, there is a sort of procedure of training for you to enter the Games. First, from the age of six to ten, you train in a group of five to eight kids. Then, from eleven to thirteen, you train either with another two from your gender or alone, depending on trainers' decision. From fourteen to eighteen, you train with a partner from the opposite gender. Each year, the center's Committee Board picks a pair to fight in the Hunger Games from these groups, based on skill, charm, looks, ability, and everything in between.

I'm fourteen, now, and the 73rd annual Hunger Games will have the reaping next week. So next year, I will be entering at the age of fifteen.

 _If they pick me._

No, they _will_ pick me! They will pick me, and I will win, and my mother and two little sisters and two little brothers will be safe!

"He's here. Clove, please try to be mature," Taxus says, as I see Cato Stewart closing the door to our section, a tiny, almost invisible smirk on his face.

This is going to be a year of hell.


	2. sparring

Cato comes in and shakes hands with Taxus, saying, "Nice to meet you." They joke slightly for a minute or so, then the blonde devil turns around to face me.

"Hey. What's your name?"

"Clove," I say, quieter than a whisper.

"Well, Clover, I'm Cato."

" _Clove_."

"Oh." He doesn't even apologize, as if him calling me Clover wasn't that much of a deal. "Aren't you a bit _short_ to be sixteen?"

I feel like throwing one of my knives at his head, then twisting another one deep, deep into his cheek.

"I am perfectly _not_ short," I retort hotly. "It isn't _my_ fault the only girls you hang around with, who happen to be _bimbos_ , are skyscrapers."

Cato's eyebrows raise, a slightly angry look covering his features, and Taxus sighs exasperatedly.

"Not all the girls I hang out with are bimbos," he snaps.

"Okay, sure."

I throw more and more knives at the wall, going back to retrieve the dozen blades when all of them are buried deep on the white block.

I notice Cato is working in the archery station, almost always hitting the bulls eye. Taxus watches us both. I try not to pay attention to them, but they keep eyeing me, and I keep noticing.

Finally, about two hours later, I hear Cato mutter to Taxus, "What is with her and being called short?"

"She doesn't like it," Taxus mumbles back. "Thinks that if she's short it means people - especially from the opposite gender - won't respect her."

I snort and laugh. They need to practice at keeping a low volume.

"Something bothering you, love?" Cato asks snidely. I ignore what he called me, turning around to face Taxus instead.

"I thought he needed help with knives?" I ask, almost sweetly.

"Ah, yes," Taxus remembers. "Yes. Cato, Clove is _excellent_ in knife-throwing. Perfect, even. Never misses. And Clove needs a bit of help with sparring and swords."

"Of course," Cato says coolly. He pulls a knife from the wall, where I had wedged it while listening to Cato and Taxus's conversation, and throws it on one of the practice dummies.

It misses.

I try not to laugh, because I've been throwing knives since I could toddle, and he was probably sword-fighting instead.

So I go over to him and tell him what he did wrong - how he should not toss the knife, but swiftly throw it. I even help him with it, putting my hand over his, almost holding it in the process. The knife swishes past the dummy by and inch, cutting off a tiny part of its arm.

"Nice," I say, trying to be encouraging, but it comes off as mocking. Cato shoots me a glare and Taxus shakes his hand.

"Look, I have some sort of meeting now," Taxus informs us. "But you still have an hour or so 'till your session ends. So try and get to know your strengths and weaknesses; it could help if you get chosen for the Games."

" _When_." Cato and I both corrected him at the same time. I glare at him and he glares back.

"When." I can see that Taxus went along with it to leave, waving goodbye as he closes the door behind him.

I turn back to Cato. He's picked up a sword, and lunging it in a life-size dummy over and over again.

"We could spar," I suggest. He turns around to look at me and nods.

We get into positions, and when a whistle sounds, Cato immediately closes in on me and I back up, trying to punch him, but he's faster than I thought he would be, given his bulk and whatnot. So I try kicking him in the nose, but I only manage to brush his cheek with my foot.

Cato has a smug look on his face - he's already punched my in the stomach and kicked my knee. When I see his fist is about to collide with my forehead, I jump back, making him frustrated.

"Clover, you're supposed to cover the least ground possible!" he yells at me, as I go back again.

Another three minutes to the match, he has me pressed on the floor, hovering above me.

What I know, and what Cato doesn't know, is that I have a knife on me, so I do the smartest thing possible, and point the dagger on his heart.


	3. just like my father

"Clover?" Cato breathes, staring down at my face.

"Don't call me that," I say, really debating driving the knife in his heart.

"What..." He trails off, unsure what to say or do.

"Get off me," I whisper. He pulls me up, but still close to me, so that when I'm standing, he has an arm around my waist.

It turns out he also keeps a weapon close by, because I feel a cold blade slightly pressing in the small of my back.

"Sword?" I ask. He nods.

I direct the blade of my knife to slice his throat if necessary, it'd be easier and quicker.

Cato looks at me with a confused expression, his eyes so blue.

Just like my father's.

 _Just like my father's._

I back away, making the sword Cato was holding scratch at my back, sending a thin trail of blood down my body.

"I have to go," I say hastily, packing up my things in my bag and pulling my jacket over my tank top.

"Clove, wait -"

"Please tell Taxus I needed to go help my mother tend to Val," I say. "He'll understand."

"Who's Va -"

But I'm already running away, back home, back to my mother, my sisters, my brothers, the only people I would give my life away for.

 _"Iris!" my father calls, thumping down the stairs. My mother peeks from the kitchen, fear etched upon her face, most likely cradling Marcus, my two month old brother._

 _"IRIS!"_

 _"Yes, Patrcick?"_

 _My mother hands me Marcus, and I know this means to go hide. I take Val by the hand, telling her to hold Tatiane's, and telling Tatiane to hold on to Jamie._

 _They are eight, six, and five respectively. I am ten. And as we lock ourselves in my room, we could hear our mother screaming, yelling for my father to please stop. Half an hour later, according to the clock on the wall, we hear our father screaming for me to come down._

 _I tell Val to hold on to Marcus, who has started to cry, and hide them all in my closet._

 _"Don't go!" Tatiane whispers. I find myself telling her it's okay, I'll be back, don't worry._

 _My mother is crying silently. She has bruises on her face, on her arms, her neck, everywhere._

 _"CLOVE!"_

 _"Yes," I whisper. And suddenly, I start feeling the pain my mother feels almost daily, screeching, wailing, because it hurts so much, and I can't bear this, when my mother starts begging for him to stop, to hit her instead._

 _"No, mom!" I try to say, but it comes out as a sob, and I'm sure Tatiane is scared out of her wits, and Val is certainely hugging her and Jamie close, and Marcus will be sobbing as much as I am._

 _When my father stops hitting me, he goes upstairs, and I'm scared he'll find my little siblings, and he does._

 _Only Val has my fight, she's started training in the center, and she's the best in her class. So she knocks him out by kicking his on the head._

 _The next month, my father keeps hitting me and my mother, until he is shipped off to the Capitol to be a Peackeeper. The day he leaves, he doesn't say goodbye. Just collects his possessions and walks out the door._

 _A relief to us._

When I get home, I feel safer. My mother seems surprised to see me here early.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing," I tell her, adding in a smile. I've turned my jacket inside out to cover the blood. "I'll go check on on Val." Upstairs, a very feverish Val is laying on the bed, Tatiane keeping her company.

"Hey," I greet them. Tatiane stands up and takes my bag. I can hear four-year-old Marcus and nine year-old Jamie in the room two doors across, playing with wooden swords.

Tatiane and Valie have grown as well. They are now ten and twelve, respectively.

"If this keeps up, you won't go to your first reaping," I inform Val.

"That's better," I hear Tatiane say.

I chuckle slightly.

"You'll be going in any year now," Val reminds me with a sore voice. "Who's going with you if you're picked?"

"Cato Gunn," I answer, barely keeping myself from not rolling my eyes.

"Oh, wow!" Tatiane exclaims, her eyes brightening.

"Yes, wow," I snap. I still can't shake the fear I felt when I looked into Cato's eyes. The ones who remind me of the man who used to beat me and my mother, and left without looking back

 **A/N: Hey, guys! Okay, so this is a Clato story. I have it all planned out, including sequels and whatever. So I have a question: there is no female victor for the 3rd Quarter Quell. How to make it possible to have two victors for the 75th Hunger Games?**

 **Leave your answers in the reviews! Thanks xx**


	4. the daisy

**Wow. Six views in an hour, that's more than ever! Thanks guys; please review if you liked this xx**

After my conversation with Val and Tatiane, I step into the shower. Everyone has already bathed, so I have the rest of the hot water for myself. Hot water is a treat which only happens once a month in the whole district, at least for the part of the not-so-rich people.

My family isn't rich, but we're not poor. We're average, and all of it comes with my mother taking laundry from others to wash them, getting paid in return, or constructing brews, or healing others in our district.

I spend about twenty minutes under the water, thinking about my first meeting with Cato Gunn.

Now that I remember what happened, it was all probably childish and immature. But my father has left scars that won't heal pretty soon, unless someone manages to convince me that he will not be back.

I hate him. I hate that he made me carry the burden of his last name. That if I die in an arena, I will die as Clove Cohan. My mother's family was horrible, too, she tells me; her father was an alcoholic, her mother sick in bed. I'm lucky, I guess, that my mother has her shit collected and that she didn't break down like plenty others when dad left.

 _Dad._

Why did I panic over _eyes_? Seriously. Cato looks like my father about as much as my mom does, and that's not a lot.

 _Apart from the eyes._

I remember when my dad used to laugh or smile. His eyes would shine blue. Blue. Blue.

Cato.

Hunger Games.

Taxus.

Training.

Val. Tatiane. Marcus. Jamie.

Mom.

I'm starting to think I'm not holding it together in a good way.

The doorbell rings. I hear Mom open the door. She laughs, and someone else laughs with her.

For a second I'm afraid it's Cato, that he's followed me; then I'm afraid it's my dad, that he's back.

But then I realize it's a girl who laughs. Then a guy.

 _What if_ this _is Cato?_

But the boy downstairs sounds younger, as young as Jamie, maybe older.

I quickly dry myself and pull on my pajamas. But it stings on my back, where I have that damned wound from Cato's sword, so I try bandaging myself. Tomorrow I'll go to the clinic in the training center. The head nurse there, Julia, always helps me if I ever get injuries, as she knows I don't like telling my mom. It freaks her out.

Taping the white cloth together, I inspect my handiwork in the mirror. It's not perfect, but it's okay; it'll hold 'till tomorrow. I take my jacket and stuff it under my bed sheets, and go down, still brushing my hair.

It's not Cato, not my father. It's Daisy, a girl who I've seen around. She's my age, and she was in my group when we were younger. She's sweet, but also really bubbly. She scares me sometimes. Next to her is her brother, Caspian. He's thirteen. Must be in Val's age group.

"Clove! Here you are," my mother exclaims, delighted. "This is Wendy, she and I were friends back in school, and these are her children Daisy and Caspian."

"Hey," I say, slightly awkward. Daisy looks a bit nervous, but Caspian is in an animated conversation with Jamie and Marcus about swords. Val and Tatiane are upstairs; I'm sure they'll both be ill by tomorrow.

Swords has me thinking of Cato.

Thinking of Cato has me thinking of how I need someone to help me figure it out.

Thinking of how I need someone to help me figure it out has me thinking of how I need friends.

I spend a minute arguing back and forth in my head, during which Wendy and my mom are talking, reminiscing old days; but I make a decision.

I stand up and tell Daisy to come with me. Our mothers seem delighted when we go upstairs. I take Daisy to my room, where she awkwardly perches herself on the edge of my desk chair.

"We were in the same training group when we were younger, remember?" I say. Daisy nods.

"Yeah. And you threw a knife at Mary-something's arm because she was making fun of Coral Gunn," Daisy remembers, giggling slightly. I smile.

"Oh, yeah. Good times."

"Yeah. I've been hanging around with Coral lately," Daisy says.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"She's a good person," I say, remembering how Coral thanked me after class when I knifed Mary, and also gave me cookies, a luxury my family could've never afforded.

"Yup. Hey, who's your training partner this year?" Daisy asks excitedly. She's starting to show her true self, and I like that.

"Cato," I answer. She has a dumbfounded expression on her face.

"How come? Usually you have someone your own age!" Daisy informs me.

"Really?" I ask. I didn't know. Then I remember Taxus. "It has to be my trainer. Taxus."

"Yes, if you're exceptionally good they put you with someone older." Daisy grins at me. "You're exceptionally good!"

I laugh. "Who's _your_ training partner?"

"Dylan Goldson, but I wish I'd gotten his brother Quinn," Daisy sighs. "Dylan is fourteen, too, but Quinn is really cute."

"Yes, but isn't he the guy they picked for the games this year, the volunteer?" I question. Daisy hangs her head.

"Yes, he is... Is it bad that I like him?"

I feel bad for the blonde with freckles.

"No. I could talk to Quinn for you," I say bluntly. Daisy looks up.

"What -"

"Look. Quinn is seventeen. Cato is seventeen. The two are friends. Quinn would come along with Cato, they'd chat, and he'd leave. It wouldn't be hard for me to see if he likes you."

...

"If you want, you can hang out with Coral and I," Daisy suggests timidly. "If you want to."

I hesitate for a second, but I agree in the end. "Sure."

Daisy throws her arms around me and hugs me. I stiffen for a bit, but she means well, and I need friends. And Daisy and Coral are probably the only people who don't think I'm only the Girl With Knives (what they _actually_ call me in the training center).

So I hug her back.

Later when she, her brother and mother leave, I find a sole daisy planted right next to our house. I pick it and go back to my room, fill in a vase with water, and dump the daisy in it. There's hope.


End file.
